


your mute confessions wreck all rationality

by Tav



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Angstish -not much, First Kiss, First Time, Free Verse, Mind Reading, Poetic Porn with no real plot, Poetry more than short short story, Sexual Tension, Short One Shot, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 12:49:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5005411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tav/pseuds/Tav
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everybody knows that Erik is a rolling stone.</p><p>Nobody knows that when passing through, he sometimes pays his old friend a visit. </p><p>Charles never questions.</p><p>Erik never mentions.</p><p>Until one day he wordlessly does.</p><p>Or the one where Charles gets a fierce glimpse into the erotic realms of Erik’s mind during what was supposed to be a monotonous game of chess. And Charles can’t get the image of himself being bent over that very table between them, panting shamelessly against wood as he takes every inch of Erik’s.</p>
            </blockquote>





	your mute confessions wreck all rationality

Charles can hear it. Erik didn’t even have to part his lips and utter a single syllable. And now it’s hanging above them. And every time Charles looks at Erik the words echo. And burn. And then simmer. And then burn some more. And Charles’ pulse quickens, heart slams, mouth waters.

 

And Erik’s hands suddenly look way too inviting.

 

And Charles can picture them on him and in him. Between his lips and on his hips. Digging, searching, finding.

 

But then Erik blinks and they’re back in the kitchen and the look Erik gives Charles makes Charles know Erik knows exactly what he’s been thinking.

 

The shade of red sucks, but Charles holds Erik’s gaze anyway.

 

Then Erik sips his coffee.

 

And Erik’s lips suddenly look way too inviting.

 

Erik doesn’t like to smile. His lips still do this sneer thing that drives Charles crazy. And Erik’s tongue darts out to kidnap that drop of moisture on his bottom lip. And Charles wonders what those lips would feel like against his own. Against his jaw. Against his cheek. Against his lower back. Up his thighs. Around his shaft.

 

But then Charles twitches and they’re back in the library and the look Erik gives Charles makes Charles know Erik knows exactly what he’s been thinking.

 

The shade of red sucks, but Charles holds Erik’s gaze anyway.

 

Then Erik shifts in his chair.

  
And his hips suddenly look way too inviting.

 

Charles wonders what Erik is hiding in those trousers. What weapon he is concealing. How it would feel if Erik snapped his hips, over and over. Against and then inside. Drawing out long moans and frustrated whimpers. Charles wrapping his legs around them. Pinning them. Holding Erik to him. Charles needs Erik’s hips against his own.

 

But then Charles causes the floor to creak and they’re back in Erik’s temporary bedroom and the look Erik gives Charles makes Charles know Erik knows exactly what he’s been thinking.

 

The shade of red sucks, but Charles holds Erik’s gaze anyway.

 

Then Erik sits up.

 

And the bed suddenly looks way too inviting.

 

Erik’s warnings evaporate somewhere in the avid flame Charles’ excitement is offering. 

 

Charles doesn’t have to speak. Erik doesn’t have to listen.

 

And when Charles lies down he knows exactly where Erik is going to begin.

 

Because Erik’s been thinking about this all day and Charles has been brazenly reading his mind.

 

 _“Forgive me,”_ Charles whispers. For what exactly, he does not know. The trail of crimson Erik’s fingers leave in their wake as his hand skims over Charles’ nakedness? The whimper that escapes his lips? Charles is not used to being looked at like this. Being studied so intensely. Being stroked so erotically.

 

Being tasted. Devoured and then sampled again.

 

Simply put, Charles is not used to being so exposed.

 

But Erik doesn’t seem to mind that Charles is shaking. Or that he’s a fraction too skinny for handsome. Or that he’s a shade too pale for pretty.

 

Erik doesn’t seem to care that Charles wants to get him naked. Wants to touch him. Taste him, inspect the same way Erik’s been doing for a maddening stretch of time.

 

Erik doesn’t pay much attention to the fact that Charles is a few breaths against his thigh away from completely losing all control. Control Charles never really had to begin with. And so as Erik’s tongue darts out, and traces  _that_  line and folds around  _that_  bend, it doesn’t matter that Charles coats his own flesh with white pearls, and fills the room with deep groans.

 

Charles doesn’t have time to be embarrassed.

 

Erik won’t allow him that perverse satisfaction.  
  
And so Charles breathes with Erik and Erik breathes with Charles and their breathing quickens together as Erik’s clothes fall away.

 

And Charles’ lips are the only part of him that Erik hasn’t kissed yet. But Erik doesn’t want to cross that line. Because when lips touch, emotions collide and hearts thump. So Erik hovers but doesn’t cover. And Charles aches further. But Erik holds him in place. Charles’ legs stretched beyond what he thought possible. Because Erik doesn’t want to hurt Charles, but he wants to see the tear that slides down his face when he does.

 

And everything fades away when they become one.

 

And rocking becomes aggressive. And Charles silently congratulates Erik for getting his tear.  And the headboard becomes their orchestra and the springs decide to join in. And just as they both start singing and every store in the city cuts their loses and closes down, and every crying baby adopts a parent and every cat becomes dogs best friend-

 

Erik kisses Charles.

 

And it feels as though Erik’s tongue is going straight to Charles’ groin via his heart.

 

And Charles realizes Erik was right all along.

 

And when Erik collapses over Charles. And his sweat stains Charles’ skin, and his breathing calms. And Erik realizes what he’s done-

 

Erik asks Charles to leave his bed.

 

And Charles complies.

 

Because it wasn’t  _just a kiss_  and they both know it.

 

*****

 

That’s all Charles sees when he looks at Erik. Erik’s fighting with himself. Those inward battles that leave the strong weak and the weak pathetic.

 

The pain reminds Charles of Erik. Everything about him. His sighs, his moans, his instinctual strength.

 

Charles doesn’t want the pain to go away because it’s all that makes him know that yesterday, Erik was, in fact, inside of him.

 

It was Charles’ body Erik’s was worshiping. It was Charles’ body worshiping Erik’s.

 

The thought alone gives Charles shivers as Erik reads the paper from across the table.

 

Charles is not there.

 

Erik tries to make Charles feel as though he is not there. But in reality Charles knows that the headline Erik is reading is Charles. The article he’s reading is Charles. The weather is Charles. The job vacancies are Charles. The comic strip is Charles.

 

The crease in Erik’s brow lets him know all this, even without reading his mind. And when Erik does look up, Charles dares him to look away.

 

Erik calls his bluff and does just that.

 

And so it seems as though their day will be wasted in silence and regret and nostalgia.

 

Charles regrets nothing.

 

*****

 

_“Allow me to gamble._

_Wear that poker face all you want, it doesn’t fool me. So allow me to take a crack at playing against you. Russian Roulette, Poker, Crazy Eights, it doesn’t matter. I’ll beat you. I know I will.”_

 

Charles’ towel drops to the floor.

 

Charles wonders if he’s terribly perverted for going rigid by the sound of water cascading down Erik’s body. Erik’s soft moans as he thinks too loudly about Charles. While he strokes and twists and pulls himself to the edge. But not quite over. Because somewhere in the back of his mind Charles has only just gotten down on his knees and he’s only just parted his lips and he’s only just held back a gag because Erik’s impatient hips needed to thrust that  _one_  time.

 

It’s so in the back of his mind that Erik hardly notices Charles actually getting to his knees. Erik doesn’t notice until Charles’ hands are on hips and lips are on tips and he takes Erik in.

 

One dice lands on five, the other on two.

 

And just like that Charles wins.

 

Erik’s hands are on the back of Charles’ head, his breathing more incessant. His legs are shaking. Back arching.

 

Erik tastes way too good that Charles wonders what warning will come if he Googles Erik’s name.

 

And then Erik moans his. And it’s followed by a curse. And when Erik pulls Charles completely away, it’s just in time to watch him come undone.

 

And for a moment Erik says nothing. He does less.

 

Breathe, breathe. The concentration on his face is as if he’s reminding himself to remember not to forget to breathe. And when Erik lifts Charles off of the ground, Charles is reminded of Erik’s strength and his own lack of it. And Charles is pressed up against the cold tiled wall. And the steam is becoming dizzying. And his hips buck for contact, and fingers search for skin and Charles is rewarded with neither.

 

Erik’s grip on his wrists is almost painful, but he doesn’t let go. Pinning Charles like his willing victim. And when Charles says his name, Erik shushes him, but he seems to enjoy the way Charles’ hips are thrashing.

 

And then Erik’s lips are over Charles’, and Erik’s tongue is in his mouth. And Charles moans. A sound so needy that Erik mirrors it.

 

 _“You better not regret this,”_ Charles gasps out wordlessly.

 

Charles’ hips find Erik’s thigh and he’s not ashamed by the way he moves against it. Rubbing hard. Bucking and grinding. Making love to Erik’s limb. And the fire in the pit of his stomach is amplified by the fact that Erik lets him.

 

Erik lets Charles rub. Erik wants Charles to cum.

 

Teeth knock and nip and nibble. Tongues lick and swipe and taste. And then Charles’ mouth forgets how to work and it’s all Erik. And Charles’ body reaches its zenith. And even as he moans, Erik’s lips don’t stop moving over his. And when his legs give out, Erik’s arms come around him.

 

And they hold each other like that. Hot water runs cold. Their bodies keep each other warm.  

 

Erik doesn’t ask Charles to leave.

 

And Charles complies.

 

Even though it wasn’t  _just a hug_ and they both know it.

 

*****

 

Charles has found a new hobby.

 

It involves his index finger and the contours of Erik’s back.

 

Because Erik shivers. And then looks over his shoulder at Charles before his head falls back on the pillow. And when Charles’ finger trails a little too low, he only hesitates once before dipping between the two mounts. And Erik chuckles.

 

Feeling brave, Charles bites a globe. That’s about as far as Erik is going to let him get.

 

Erik’s turning over and pulling Charles into his arms where his only option is to behave. And Erik’s fingers touch Charles’ face, and Charles’ touch Erik’s. And toying with ears and hair becomes another new hobby. And noses rub and legs tangle.  
  
Content.

 

That’s what it feels like.

 

Until Erik _has_  to leave.

 

And Charles doesn’t ask him to stay.

 

Because it never ever really was  _just a visit_ , and they both know it.

 

 


End file.
